


let me demonstrate

by feloosha (gwencelot)



Series: Wishbone Week 2020 [5]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Background Qrow/James, Bad Pick-Up Lines, Clubbing, Dirty Dancing, M/M, References to Alcohol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:08:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23344495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwencelot/pseuds/feloosha
Summary: Marrow doesn't particularly like clubs, but it would be a shame to turn down a dance from one of the hottest guys he's ever seen.---“Dance with me,” Clover says, and it would probably sound more seductive if he didn’t have to nearly yell to be heard. But something inside Marrow stirs nonetheless, a fluttering that starts in his stomach and rises to his chest, flattered and giddy and all those good feelings you get when being flirted with. Marrow stares at the outstretched hand for a moment longer, considering. Fuck it, he decides, taking one last swig from his beer and setting the glass down for good before reaching out to take Clover’s hand.
Relationships: Marrow Amin/Clover Ebi, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: Wishbone Week 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1672663
Comments: 8
Kudos: 29





	let me demonstrate

**Author's Note:**

> This is my 20th RWBY fic! Woohoo!
> 
> Wishbone Week prompt: Modern AU.
> 
> [See what's in the works at my tumblr!](https://feloosha.tumblr.com/wip)

Clubs  _ really  _ aren’t Marrow’s scene. Music so loud he can never hear what anyone is saying, overpriced drinks that taste watered down at best, creepy older dudes trying to pick him up—Marrow’s seen it all, and he’d rather stay home cuddled under a blanket and nursing a bottle of cheap beer, thank you very much. 

Which is why he’d tried to resist May’s insistence that he come out tonight,  _ really, no thank you,  _ but it’s  _ May,  _ and he’s never known her to take no for an answer. So here he is, leaned against the bar in some place called Junior’s, contemplating whether he should start early and get hammered before May even meets him here to make the waiting more bearable.

Deciding he’ll just start out with something on tap, Marrow looks to the side while he waits for the bartender to be available, figuring he may as well see if anyone cute is here. Squinting against the flashing lights, Marrow can make out bodies gyrating on the dance floor, people leaning against the walls nursing drinks. It’s mostly older men, he notices with slight annoyance, which is  _ fine,  _ just not his thing. It’s not the first time he’s questioned May’s taste in clubs, but maybe the drinks are  _ really  _ good. Or something.

One person does catch his eye, though, standing off to the right with a beer in hand, gesticulating wildly as he speaks to the man beside him. Even from across the room Marrow can see he’s  _ handsome,  _ tall with a chiseled jaw, brown hair cropped short to accentuate his face even more, and those  _ muscles.  _ Marrow’s eyes drift to the man beside him, who, he realizes with a frown, seems  _ much older,  _ gray streaked through his dark hair, watching people dance with an unimpressed look on his face. Maybe some sort of sugar daddy situation? 

As if sensing he’s being watched, the brunet’s head turns towards Marrow, their eyes meeting for a split second before Marrow looks away, trying to ignore the heat on his cheeks. God, is he really that pathetic that he’s staring at the first hot guy he sees tonight? With a shake of his head, he attempts to flag down the bartender, sighing when he’s ignored. He stands up, intent on moving closer, but the sudden presence of someone stepping into his space stops him.

He shouldn’t be surprised when he looks up to find the hot guy from before smirking at him, voice raised to be heard over the music.

“Hey there, cutie.”

Marrow looks off to the side, then behind himself before turning to face the guy, eyebrows raised. “Are you talking to me?”

The man’s smirk widens, green eyes fixed on Marrow’s own, unwavering. “Of course. What’s your name?”

“Uh… Marrow,” Marrow squints suspiciously, still not sure where this is going. Guys like this don’t hit on him, and he was just with that older guy... “You?”

“I’m Clover,” the guy—Clover—grins, holding out his hand until Marrow takes it, and uses it to yank him a bit closer. He winks at Marrow’s surprised huff. “But you can call me anytime.”

Marrow blinks in disbelief, pulling his hand away to glare. Of course—he’s hot, and a total tool. “Does that actually work on anyone?” At Clover’s laugh, he plants his hands on his hips, looking around again. “Didn’t work on that guy you were with earlier, so you thought you’d try it on me?”

Clover’s brows pinch together in confusion before realization dawns on his face. “Who,  _ Qrow?  _ Ugh, don’t even joke about that.” He leans against the bar, signaling for the bartender before looking at Marrow, smile back in place. “You’re the only one on my radar tonight.” He winks again. “Lucky you, huh?”

“Oh my god,” Marrow brings a hand up to rub at his temple. When the bartender approaches, Clover looks at him expectantly. “Oh, I’m fine, thanks.” When Clover doesn’t budge, Marrow sighs. “I’m meeting a friend.”

“A  _ boy _ friend?” Clover’s smile barely wavers, but Marrow sees uncertainty in his eyes for the first time. That alone makes Marrow pause and consider giving in. He’s clearly not a  _ total  _ dickhead, and will probably back off if Marrow really gives him a firm no, but…

He’s pretty cute, and Marrow is gay and weak.

“No,” Marrow says, smiling himself when Clover’s returns full-force. “I guess… I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

“Great!” Clover eagerly turns to the bartender to order two more, depositing his nearly empty glass on the bar. While they wait, he steps even closer to Marrow, meeting him step for step until Marrow feels the backs of his thighs digging into the stool behind him. “At the risk of this coming off as another cheesy line…” Clover smiles, grabbing the beers when they arrive and passing one to Marrow before taking a sip. “I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.”

“Oh,” Marrow takes a swig himself, tipping his head back slightly to help it go down. He doesn’t miss how Clover’s gaze moves to his neck, following the line of his throat as he swallows. “No, I’ve never been here.” He taps his fingers on the bar, looking around again. “I mean, the crowd seems a little older here, you know.”

“It’s a  _ theme  _ night,” Clover tells him. “A little something for the fourty-plus crowd.”

Marrow rests his head on his hand, leaning against the bar and directing a cheeky smirk Clover’s way. “Huh. You look great for your age.”

“I—” Clover nearly chokes on his drink, setting it down with a scandalized look on his face. “I’m twenty-eight!”

“Oh?” Marrow hides his laugh behind another sip of beer, shrugging a little. “My bad.”

“You are…” Clover shakes his head, and if Marrow wasn’t looking right at him, he may have missed the way his eyes darken, the way his smile turns predatory. “That’s a little rude, don’t you think? Assuming someone’s age?” In the low light his pupils are already dilated, and Marrow watches them as he licks his lips, slow and deliberate, delighting in how they nearly black out Clover’s green eyes completely when they follow the movement. 

Too easy.

“How can I make it up to you?” Marrow asks innocently, but pitches his voice low into a tone that’s anything but. He’s not expecting Clover to grin, like he’s been waiting for Marrow to ask that very question, and push himself off of the bar, holding out a hand. 

“Dance with me,” Clover says, and it would probably sound more seductive if he didn’t have to nearly yell to be heard. But something inside Marrow stirs nonetheless, a fluttering that starts in his stomach and rises to his chest, flattered and giddy and all those good feelings you get when being flirted with. Marrow stares at the outstretched hand for a moment longer, considering. Fuck it, he decides, taking one last swig from his beer and setting the glass down for good before reaching out to take Clover’s hand. May is late, and he deserves to have some fun.

Clover leads them to the dance floor without breaking eye contact, smile waning into a smirk that makes Marrow’s knees shake in anticipation. Thankfully they don’t make it too far into the crowd before Clover stops, dropping Marrow’s hand to place it on his hip, free arm winding around Marrow’s body until they’re flush together. Marrow makes a surprised noise that’s completely drowned out by the bass thumping through the floor and brings his own hands up to Clover’s biceps, giving them a not-so-subtle squeeze to feel the muscles move under his fingers. 

The huff of laughter that ghosts over Marrow’s face lets him know Clover knows exactly what he’s doing. Marrow allows himself another moment to feel the other man up before he drags his hands up and over Clover’s shoulders to rest at the nape of his neck. He uses this grip to pull them that much closer together, noses nearly brushing, pressed against each other from head to toe.

Clover leans in, mouth brushing Marrow’s ear when he speaks. “You’re so hot.” Marrow opens his mouth to retort that that’s his line, because,  _ hello,  _ Clover is stupid hot, but Clover takes that moment to start moving them together, uses his grip on Marrow’s waist to grind his hips forward. Marrow chokes on his words, deciding it can wait,  _ everything  _ can wait as long as Clover keeps his hands on him.

When Marrow leans his head forward, he gets a brief glance of the rest of the club over Clover’s shoulder, pausing when he sees a familiar figure from earlier. It’s the guy Clover had been talking with, and— _ oh,  _ he’s made himself very busy, plastered against a taller man that may even be more muscular than Clover. A light laugh escapes Marrow when he sees the shorter of the two’s hands wandering; Clover pulls back to make eye contact, taking a peek over his own shoulder where he sees Marrow looking. He turns back with an eye roll.

“That’s my coworker,” he explains loudly, barely giving Marrow time to respond before he grinds their hips together again, hands tightening around his waist. Marrow attempts to give back as good as he gets, using his grip on Clover as leverage to shimmy against him, chests brushing.

“Which one?” Marrow asks. It’s not the best way to hold a conversation, he thinks, but it’s fun to be able to use any lulls to roll their bodies together, make the other gasp.

Clover smiles, trailing one of his hands slowly down Marrow’s back, stopping at the waistband of his pants. When Marrow quirks his brow and smirks to encourage him, he has to hold in a groan as Clover’s hand finishes its descent to land on his ass, giving it a light squeeze. 

“The guy I was with earlier, Qrow,” Clover answers finally, adjusting their rhythm until he’s pulling Marrow forward by his ass with each beat, bodies easily moving against each other. “He wanted to go out tonight but his husband—James—isn’t much of a clubber.” Marrow gets that. Hell, it’s been a long time since he’s been to a place like this, let alone danced with anyone. Clover leans forward again with a sly smile, breath ghosting over the shell of Marrow’s ear. “Seems like he’s having a fine time convincing him to let loose, though.”

Marrow has to agree; he spares the couple one last look over Clover’s shoulder just in time to see Qrow dip his hand behind James, presumably attempting a butt grab as well. Shaking his head with a grin, Marrow turns his attention back to Clover, startled a bit by his intense gaze.

“What?” Marrow asks, knowing he shouldn’t feel self-conscious (there’s no space between their bodies and they’re practically  _ humping  _ each other, for god’s sake), but he flushes anyway. Up close, he can see the crinkles around Clover’s eyes when he smiles, slow and easy.

“You’re just really cute, is all.”

Well. Marrow can do a little better than  _ cute. _

He tilts his head and flashes Clover a grin, dragging his hands down the muscled chest in front of him, taking his time to admire Clover’s defined pecs and abs through his shirt. Marrow feels the inhalation of breath, the quick rise and fall under his hands, but doesn’t give Clover any more time to react before he spins around, and now it’s a whole new game. 

Reaching up and back, Marrow wraps his arms around Clovers neck again until he can grab a fistful of short hair, tug lightly. He arches his back, rubbing his ass against Clover’s groin and smirking when Clover’s hands reappear at his hips, pulling him back sharply.

Clover’s chest vibrates against Marrow’s back as he groans, tightening his grip as he nuzzles into Marrow’s hair, says hot into his ear, “You’re gonna kill me.”

Marrow tilts his head back to laugh, letting it land on Clover’s shoulder as they move together. He loses himself in the bass thrumming through the floor, the feel of Clover’s hands shifting to rest just under the hem of his shirt, hot against his sweaty skin. When he feels warm thumbs dip into his waistband so Clover’s entire palm is against him skin-to-skin, Marrow nearly lets out a groan of his own.

He lets Clover guide their bodies for a while, enjoying letting go, relinquishing control, and just  _ feeling.  _ Clover’s skin burns like fire against his own where they touch even through layers of fabric, and Marrow isn’t surprised to find himself getting hard, or Clover’s own dick nudging against his ass, clearly on his way as well. He lets himself appreciate it for a moment, grinds back purposefully until he can feel Clover gasp, before he slowly brings them to a stop, turning around with a little smirk on his face.

“We should probably cool off,” Marrow yells, pointing at the bar to make sure Clover understands. Clover looks over to it and back before nodding, holding out his hand again for Marrow to take. He doesn’t let go even once they’re leaning against the bar again; not when Marrow insists that he just wants a water, please, and Clover shrugs and turns to the bartender; not even when Marrow’s phone buzzes with a message from May and he apologizes, tapping it open, and Clover just smiles at him.

_ Hiiii sorry I’m late, here now. Saw you dancing with that guy tho so I left you alone ;) Come find me near the DJ so we can dance. Bring your friend,  _ it reads, and Marrow can practically hear May’s sly voice teasing him about Clover. He cranes his head to look towards the DJ, but there are too many people in the crowd to pick her out.

Marrow turns to Clover, an apologetic look on his face. “My friend is here,” he says loudly, pointing across the room. “Uh, do you want to…?”

“That’s okay,” Clover returns, finally releasing Marrow’s hand, letting his fingertips graze his palm on the way down. He smirks. “Go see your friend. I should convince my old timers to call it a night.” Marrow nods, but hesitates, shuffling his feet. Clover is hot. And nice. And a great dancer. And— “Can I get your number?”

“What?” Marrow says, brows furrowed. He wants to make sure he heard right.

“Your number,” Clover says even louder. He tilts his head. “Can I see you again?”

Oh. Clover wants his number? Wants them to be in the same proximity again in the future? On purpose? A guy that looks like  _ that?  _ Marrow blinks, stuffing his hand in his back pocket quickly to retrieve his phone. He wasn’t expecting this, but Clover seems like much less of a fuckboy than he initially came across as.

It still feels surreal as he hands his phone over to Clover, as he watches him punch in his contact information, winking exaggeratedly for a quick selfie. Marrow feels laughter bubble up in his chest, unable to stop his smile when Clover grins at him and hands it back, looking pleased with himself.

“Text me!” He demands, pulling his own phone out and waving it a little. Marrow obediently opens a new message, chuckling at the contact photo Clover had set for himself and the shamrock emoji inserted after his first name. Cute. He fires off a message with his name to make it easy, hesitating before adding a cute little dog emoji at the end. Clover’s face lights up when he sees it, and Marrow has to stop himself from reaching out, from trailing his fingers over the crow’s feet around his eyes where his smiles have made a permanent mark.

Feeling bold, Marrow leans into Clover’s space, pulling him in by the hand much the same way Clover had before they danced. He drops a kiss on Clover’s cheek, pleased when he pulls back and sees a flush making its way across the brunet’s face. “Can I still call you any time?”

Clover pauses, huffing out a surprised laugh when he realizes Marrow is echoing his bad pick up line from earlier in the night. He changes his grip on Marrow’s hand, sliding them apart until only their pinkies curl together between them, like a promise. “You better.”


End file.
